


Uncaged

by feveredsweetness



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Fluff, Hannigram - Freeform, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Dolarhyde, Post-TWOTL, Romance, Soulmates AU, Writing on Skin, red dragon - Freeform, words on skin au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feveredsweetness/pseuds/feveredsweetness
Summary: Will proves that not even Fate can tear him and Hannibal apart.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murdergatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/gifts).



> For Charlie:
> 
> Thank you so much for your endless support and encouragement. You keep me writing. Keep on being magnificent. <3

“It really does look black in the moonlight,” Will marvels, the sheen of the Dragon’s blood glistening on the back of his hand; beads of the substance trailing ruby rivulets between his knuckles, kissing his palm like a gentle yet eager lover. 

Hannibal watches him, eyes glinting in predatory awe at the sight of Will finally embracing his truest self without fear and the stain of shame. In that moment, he feels the two of them fully conjoin as they breathe in iron through winter’s bite, fueling their radiance. 

A searing white heat then pulsates and thrums with the intensity of an electric current through Hannibal’s organic circuitry. He winces, eyes and face lined with a deeply rooted pain; pain that stems from an inconvenient sentiment that cannot be eradicated by even the most unspeakable acts of violence. A pain conceived from a love that wounds and maims, yet tends to the innermost hidden corners of the soul. 

The injuries sustained during his and Will’s carnal battle is shallow affliction in comparison to the one that pierces his heart. 

The phrase branded upon his flesh had been uttered. A teacup would shortly shatter.

Will slowly rises to his feet, passing a last observance upon the Dragon’s lifeless frame. 

_Ding, dong, the Dragon’s dead._

His words echo through the corridors in his mind in solemn celebration. 

He approaches Hannibal slowly, in stiffened agony and contemplation, as his eyes move from the evidence of his rebirth to the words he has been marked by his entire nomadic life. 

_Always the new boy in school._

The empath’s teeth scrape against the wall of his mouth, snaring the flesh and producing blood. He lets it coat the back of his tongue and swallows, his jaw locking. 

The moonlight overhead illuminates the scene taking place. Leaving behind the bloodied trails of an epic struggle and ultimate triumph, leaving behind the fallen Dragon, his wings spread out as if in a final demand for awe, the bruised and battered man stops before his dear doctor. His eyes are brimming with peace and an uncaged love. 

The wound on his cheek oozes as his face lights up in a smile.

Hannibal slowly closes his eyes, his throat working against the upsurge of emotion. Upon opening them, he fixes his gaze upon the other man, his mouth lilting in a small smile of his own. 

“This is all I have ever wanted, Will. For both of us.”

Will’s face pales as a flash of white hot pain courses through him. He knows. He knows this moment.

His mind blazes through all those years alone and unknowing, truly, of another. All of those years where air and its suffocating screams along with the mounting body count and pale, sad faces of poor, dead girls and families stifled his life, and smeared his very dreams. Robbed him of his peace. All those years trying to be okay with himself. His true self. And now here…

_No._

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes softly. He rests his head against Hannibal’s chest, his hands seeking purchase on the man. One settles on the back of his shoulder blades. The other claims the side of his shoulder, his fingers memorizing fabric and the flesh and muscle beneath it, as if all physical evidence of this monster was about to vanish. As if both of them were going to be struck by Fate anyway and thereby, from this Earth. 

_Maybe that’s okay…_

The empath flutters his eyes to a blissful close, savoring the last moment with Hannibal nuzzling his nose into his hair, his arms encasing him. 

Heartbeats pulse into dim and fleeing footsteps, as they had years ago.

= = =

Sunlight filters through drawn, billowing curtains in front of a large bay window. A warm, light breeze tousles Will’s bedhead mop of curls while caressing the bare skin of the man beside him. 

The two men are entangled and snuggled up together in a cradle of soft cotton sheets, breathing easily in unison. Tension is absent from their scarred though healed bodies.  
Hannibal is the first to rouse from a deep slumber. His eyes fix themselves upon the dark nest of hair he knows all too well. Scruff scrapes pleasantly against the nook of his bare arm and chest. 

His lips sweep up into a drowsy grin before going to leave fair kisses upon Will’s head, his nose inhaling the clean scent of his hair. 

“Labas rytas, mano meile,” Hannibal whispers, framing a gentle hand against his cheek. 

The younger man snuffles, his mouth twitching in groggily pleasure. 

“G’morning,” Will exhales slowly. His voice is wrought with raspy southern charm as New Orleans sets into him again. 

He breathes the older one in momentarily before opening well rested eyes. His gaze stills as he lazily rolls onto his back, keeping himself in close proximity to his beloved.

His attention goes from the amiably lit stare of the man before him to the smooth and angled planes of his face before slipping further down to the words upon Hannibal’s inner, outstretched arm. 

Stubborn amusement dances within his steady gaze, causing crinkles to form around his eyes as the rest of his face glows with an impish yet prideful grin. He bellows out a raspy pitched laugh, sending it ringing through the acoustics of the room. 

Hannibal catches on as he notes the birth-given tattoo on both of them. An eyebrow artfully rises, his perfectly sculpted lips spreading as he laughs along. 

“It’s been three years,” he says factually. “And I never could entirely predict you. Even now.” 

He looks at him proudly.

Will tucks his head, still tickled with triumphant glee. 

“No. And to think my defiance remains stronger than the divine themselves.” 

Hannibal simpers and leans in as Will reaches for the back of his beloved’s head, fingers threading through fine blonde and silver locks before grasping a fistful of them, drawing him even nearer. 

Their mouths ghost over each other’s before claiming and exploring with a clash of teeth and pursuing tongues. 

One of Will’s hands trails down Hannibal’s shoulder and lingers over the phrase on his arm that reads in perfect ivory, _It really does look black in the moonlight._

His lips spread in pleasure and gratitude as they continue to work against the other’s. 

The older man hums and parts from his partner. He chuckles at the near whine Will makes as he tilts his head and ducks in order to graze his teeth along the man’s throat in between leaving kisses of adoration and thankfulness. 

Will’s grip hardens in Hannibal’s hair as he pulls him back up and plants his lips chastely against his forehead before hungrily reclaiming his mouth. 

His beloved’s hand cradles the side of his bearded jaw before straying down to allow his fingertips the tactile study of Will’s own birth brand that lies on the side of his ribs. 

His lover shudders as a ghost of a laugh passes through him. As Will deepens the kiss, Hannibal’s touch lingers over every ivory word in _For both of us._

They spend the morning like that; studying, memorizing, and drowning each other in relentless love and adoration. Sunshine and rustling sheets. Breath passing into breath. Peace uninterrupted.

**Author's Note:**

> **"Labas rytas, mano meile." Lithuanian to English translation: Good morning, my love. 
> 
> If this translation is incorrect, please let me know. 
> 
> "Heartbeats pulse into dim and fleeing footsteps, as they had years ago."---This line was inspired by Will's description of his own heart in Rôti. I'm rather fond of it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos/comments. They are greatly appreciated. <3 
> 
> **This work was commissioned. Want to know more? Go to splinteredbone.tumblr.com. :)


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